Unwanted
by nat-chan
Summary: After years of amnesia and loneliness Mamoru finally finds a link to the past in the recovered journals of his mother. But he never expected what he finds in their contents.
1. prologue

Unwanted  
  
Prologue  
  
Rated: Angst  
  
Set: First Season  
  
Author: nat-chan  
  
E-mail: natia_99@yahoo.com  
  
Author's Notes: I've been inspired by Aimee-chan so prepare yourselves  
  
for tragic angst peoples!!!!  
  
Disclaimer: I keep throwing myself in the path of youmas...but  
  
still no Tuxedo Mask.....hmmmm....  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The phone rang in his kitchen and he padded barefoot across  
  
the living room to answer it.   
  
"Moshi Moshi?" He queried.  
  
"Mr. Chiba?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
"This is Matsaki Orphanage calling. The Hospital just contacted  
  
us looking for you. They've found some things that belonged to  
  
your parents..."  
  
His grip on the phone tightened, his mouth running dry.  
  
"Th-thank you." He managed breathlessly before hanging up.  
  
He raced to the bedroom to change and flew out the door  
  
with as much gusto as his nemesis...  
  
He drove like the wind to the hospital and rushed to  
  
the information desk.  
  
Sitting in the waiting chairs was torture. Finally  
  
an older looking Doctor emerged slowly.  
  
"Mr. Chiba?"  
  
"Hai!" He responded immediately, standing eagerly.  
  
The Doctor ushered him into his office and offered him a seat.  
  
"Do you remember me Mamoru?" He smiled.  
  
He regarded him a long moment, "Uh...gomen...demo...are  
  
you Doctor Mizuno?" He finished, eyes wide.  
  
"Indeed I am. How are you my boy? I always wondered  
  
about you..."  
  
"I-I'm alright. I'm in High School now, and working."  
  
"They told me at the orphanage you moved out on your  
  
own as soon as you could."  
  
"Hai."  
  
The old Doctor took off his glasses slowly, "And you  
  
never remembered anything?"  
  
He shook his head, "Never."  
  
"Well, another Hospital finally contacted us...from  
  
America. You were born in America Mamoru, in fact, that's  
  
where your parents lived."  
  
Mamoru's eyes widened.  
  
"They were from here, but they travelled over there  
  
to work I gather."  
  
He took a deep breath, "The house, and everything in  
  
it is gone. Sold and scattered unfortunately. But  
  
your mother kept journals and they were given to the   
  
local library. The only reason they were found is the   
  
library is switching it's filing to computer and they  
  
came across them in their cleaning. Someone sought out  
  
their origins and contacted us."  
  
He pulled a bundle of worn looking notebooks tied with  
  
string out of a drawer and handed them to Mamoru.  
  
"So here they are."  
  
Mamoru looked at them incredulously, his hands shaking,  
  
"A-a-arigato." He managed.  
  
"I'm glad I could give you something after all this  
  
time son."  
  
Mamoru stood slowly and Dr. Mizuno did too,  
  
"You keep in touch now you hear?"  
  
They shook hands and Mamoru left.  
  
He flew home.  
  
Finally alone in his apartment he headed slowly to the coffee  
  
table, the shock setting in.  
  
His mother's journals. After all this time, with no connection  
  
to anyone or anything.....  
  
He sat down and untied them, reading the dates on the covers  
  
and putting them in order with care.  
  
Then ever-so-carefully he opened the first one and began  
  
to read.  
  
He read for hours. His mother detailed the move from Japan,  
  
the business his father was in, his transfer and success.  
  
The last journal was the one that he would be in...  
  
He made himself a coffee and sat down with a pale face.  
  
He was never to drink from that coffee.  
  
Instead, he read the journal page by page, several  
  
times over. Each time the dull pain throbbed a little  
  
deeper.  
  
The Journal began when his mother discovered she  
  
was pregnant and detailed the months until his birth.  
  
And they revealed one, terrible, fact.  
  
He was not a wanted baby.  
  
His parents, especially his mother, had never  
  
wanted children.  
  
They never planned to have him and discovered  
  
too late that he was conceived.  
  
His mother voiced her fears and dismay. How  
  
she never wanted the burden of a baby. How   
  
she feared it would take over their lives.  
  
How she worried that she would not cope  
  
well.  
  
How she didn't even want to go buy  
  
baby clothes or pick out a name.  
  
But the last line of her journal was  
  
the most cruel.  
  
He read it over and over....  
  
~I hope I can learn to love my baby  
  
the way he deserves to be loved...but  
  
I fear I cannot....~  
  
It was the last entry.  
  
He was born shortly after....  
  
He simply sat there for hours, numb with shock.  
  
It was too much.  
  
Before, at the orphanage, alone and unwanted  
  
he had clung to the belief that before his  
  
parents had died--even if he could not remember--he  
  
had been wanted and loved. It was all he had.  
  
Now that was gone too.  
  
He was not wanted, and he had never been wanted.  
  
It had never occured to him that the memories  
  
he could not retrieve were bad ones....maybe that  
  
was why he couldn't? His mind was trying to  
  
protect him from the truth?  
  
A switch flicked inside of him then. The last  
  
of what kept him going simply snuffed like  
  
a flame and died.  
  
He hung his head.  
  
What was the point of it all?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	2. chapter 1

Unwanted  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Rated: Angst  
  
Set: First Season  
  
Author: nat-chan  
  
E-mail: natia_99@yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: standard  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Usagi sat worriedly across from Motoki at the arcade,  
  
"Oni-san, he hasn't been in for a whole week?"  
  
"No Usa-chan...I'm really worried. He isn't answering  
  
his phone calls either..."  
  
Motoki took her slender hand in his own, "Usagi-chan,  
  
he has class now, will you go just look for him  
  
and see if he's alright? Please? For me?"  
  
"Of course! Don't worry Motoki, teasing me will  
  
cheer him up if he's sad...I'm sure he's just been  
  
busy with studies lately."  
  
"I hope so. I just have a bad feeling...."  
  
Usagi frowned and hurried away to Mamoru's school.  
  
She hadn't crashed into him in a week...and she had  
  
to admit, she missed it.  
  
Where *was* the baka lately anyway?  
  
She rounded a corner and spotted him quite suddenly.  
  
She couldn't believe how quickly she found him...as though  
  
just thinking about him brought her there...  
  
He was walking slowly, almost dejectedly. In his hand  
  
was a paper covered in red ink. As she approached he  
  
crumpled it and threw it over his head, where it promptly  
  
hit her in the face.  
  
Ah the irony of it all.  
  
"Usagi was about to laugh when she unfolded it and read  
  
the grade...an F...Mamoru had gotten an F..."  
  
Her eyes widened and she hurried to catch him up--it wasn't  
  
difficult.  
  
"Mamoru?"  
  
He turned with surprise at the sound of her voice and she  
  
promptly crashed into him head on, knocking them both to the  
  
ground.  
  
He lay dazedly beneath her, "O-Odango?"   
  
Her eyes narrowed at his pale face and tired expression....  
  
something was not right here....  
  
"Mamoru!" She held up the test, "You got an F? How did  
  
you get an F?"  
  
He looked at it wearily and shut his eyes, "I didn't study...why  
  
do you care anyway Odango?"  
  
Usagi's eyes widened, "You...you didn't study? YOU! I don't   
  
believe this!"  
  
She scurried off of him and pulled him to a sit, "Baka! Are  
  
you sick?"  
  
A slender hand touched his forehead and he jerked away,  
  
"No, I'm not. Just leave me alone Usa....why are you at my school anyway?"  
  
Usagi stared at him in surprise...did he just call her...Usa??  
  
"Motoki-oni-san is worried about you." She said softly.  
  
Mamoru almost looked regretful, wincing, "You can tell  
  
him I'm fine."  
  
"I told him you were probably busy studying...but.." She held  
  
up the test, "...you're not..."  
  
She leaned closer as they stood, "Mamoru, what's wrong?"  
  
He frowned and gruffly pushed her away, "Nothing. I told  
  
you. Now leave me alone already!"  
  
He stomped away, leaving her with the failed test.  
  
Usagi bit her quivering bottom lip.  
  
Something was terribly wrong...but what?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*  
  
* 


	3. chapter 2

Unwanted  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Rated: Angst  
  
Set: First Season  
  
Author: nat-chan  
  
E-mail: natia_99@yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: standard  
  
recommended songs of angst (if reading this just isn't enough angst  
  
for ya!!)  
  
flames - Vast  
  
let that be enough - Switchfoot  
  
butterfly mornings - mazzy star  
  
saturate (forever) - breaking benjamin  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Motoki cleaned the counters solemnly. His trademark smile  
  
and good cheer noticably absent. His customers worried and tried  
  
to brighten his unusually cloudy dimeaner but to no avail.  
  
Motoki had left eight messages on Mamoru's phone. He'd  
  
called him at work and found that Mamoru had not been in,  
  
and they didn't know why. He'd pounded on Mamoru's door  
  
for an hour the previous night but he refused to answer.  
  
All he knew was that Usagi had seen him looking haggard  
  
and found a flunked test in his hand.   
  
Worry gripped Motoki. Mamoru had a very small life in  
  
many ways. There were no loved ones to comfort him when  
  
things were bad. Only his friends. But Mamoru was not  
  
accustomed to leaning on anyone for support. His instinct  
  
when hurting was to push everyone away.  
  
But whatever was wrong, was bigger than Mamoru, and Motoki  
  
was worried.  
  
Usagi bustled in at her usual time--but with odangos twice   
  
there normal size! She sat down with determination.  
  
"He won't be able to resist Motoki--just look at them! I  
  
can barely keep my head up!"  
  
Motoki smiled wanely, "Usagi, I don't think he's coming in.  
  
He won't answer my calls, he hasn't been at work, he won't  
  
even come to his door!"  
  
Usagi's face paled, "He hasn't even been to work? Motoki,"  
  
She leaned over and whispered it quietly as a terrible fear  
  
clutched her heart, "Do you think he might be sick?"  
  
Motoki paled as well, "I don't know." He finally answered,   
  
fear clutching his heart as well.  
  
They sat a long time in the arcade, in silent horror.  
  
Was Mamoru terribly ill? So ill he didn't want anyone to see  
  
him? So ill....there might be no hope?  
  
Usagi found herself so deeply bothered by the possibility that  
  
she couldn't let it go. She had to find him. To find out....  
  
She left Motoki and headed for Mamoru's apartment...  
  
The girls might have thought her crazy considering the constant  
  
banter between them...but Usagi still felt a connection to Mamoru.  
  
She had shrugged it off in the beginning as merely a result of  
  
seeing him so often. He was familiar, and she cared for everyone.  
  
Even bakas.  
  
But the connection pulled strongly now. As strongly as if he   
  
were one of the scouts in danger--or her own family. She decided  
  
then, that she must always know if Mamoru was doing alright. To  
  
satisfy this deep feeling she could not place.  
  
She passed the park and suddenly stopped, turning towards it.  
  
Something, a feeling....  
  
She headed in and walked to the bridge to find Mamoru sitting, his  
  
long legs dangling over the side as he stared into the water.  
  
He suddenly looked very young to Usagi and she remembered Motoki  
  
telling her that he lived alone--his parents had died when he  
  
was very young.   
  
The thought of death clutched at her painfully. Mamoru couldn't  
  
be ill! But he looked so thin and pale....she swallowed hard--was he?  
  
She walked over quietly and sat down beside him. He didn't turn,  
  
"Go away Usagi..."  
  
His voice sounded dead and flat. Her eyes widened in horror.  
  
"Mamoru, what's wrong? Please tell me?" The worry in her voice  
  
was so strong that he actually turned, and his eyes couldn't help  
  
but notice the double-sized odangos...  
  
She smiled brightly, "How can you resist Mamoru? They're double  
  
odangos! That's four for the price of two!"  
  
And the faintest smile twitched the corners of his mouth. Usagi  
  
cared. For all their teasing, he suspected they were friends--like  
  
he and Motoki. But Usagi's heart was even bigger than his best friends.  
  
He wondered if his heart might have had a chance if his parents had lived.  
  
Now he knew, it would probably have been worse.   
  
The smile faded away. Usagi's face became pinched with worry again.  
  
"Mamoru--"  
  
"Usagi, I appreciate your kindness--but there is nothing you can  
  
do."  
  
Now Usagi was convinced, tears welled up in her big blue eyes  
  
and she threw her arms around the startled Mamoru,  
  
"Oh Mamoru! I knew it!"   
  
Mamoru looked down at the sobbing blond odangos suddenly in his  
  
arms. In his entire life he had never been hugged. He was never  
  
treated unkindly, but never with much affection either.   
  
Now Usagi was wailing into his chest, "What will I do without you  
  
Mamoru?"  
  
He frowned, "Without me? Usa, what on earth--?"  
  
"You're even calling me Usa!" She wailed. Oh, this must be  
  
the end. What would she do if Mamoru died? What was this terrible  
  
emptiness filling her from the inside at the thought?  
  
She tried to calm herself and looked up into his eyes with   
  
sincerity like a beautiful beacon shining through,  
  
"Mamoru, I'll miss you--I-I don't know what I'll do without  
  
you."  
  
"Usa, where do you think I'm going?"  
  
Hope blossomed, "You're not sick?"  
  
He looked into her young face with surprise. It all hit him  
  
at once.  
  
~She thought I was sick--that I was going to die. She was sad,  
  
now she looks ready to rejoice--why?~  
  
He shook his head, unable to say a word as she once again crushed  
  
him in a surprisingly strong hug.  
  
Then again, what did he know about hugs?  
  
Finally, when the warmth of her snug little body in his arms  
  
settled into something barely familiar, he got his voice back,  
  
"I'm not sick Usagi, I just have a lot on my mind..."  
  
Her face grew serious and for a moment looked so mature and  
  
understanding he was taken aback.  
  
"What kinds of things?" She asked, her focus on him so absolute  
  
he struggled to think of a time someone's attention had been so  
  
singularly on him.  
  
For a moment their eyes held and he really believed he could tell her  
  
and somehow she would help--though he couldn't say how. But he looked  
  
to her hair, saw instead how young she was and turned away from  
  
that moment.  
  
He shrugged, "It's...nothing." He turned back to the water.  
  
Her hands went self-consciously to her hair and she let the  
  
enormous buns down, fixing them to their original size. Then she sat beside  
  
him, legs dangling over too and said simply, "Is there anything I can  
  
do to cheer you up?"  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"And you don't want to tell me what's wrong?"  
  
He shook his head again.   
  
She watched him quietly before deciding to leave him. Normally  
  
she would have stayed--had it been one of the girls--and nagged  
  
it out of them. But Mamoru was different. There was something  
  
more to his problems--something that spoke of sorrow beyond all  
  
else.   
  
She wrote her phone number on a slip of paper and tucked it into  
  
his hand, closing his palm over it.  
  
"You can call me Mamoru--if you want to."  
  
He looked at his hand and did not meet her eyes. And after she was  
  
gone he slowly opened it and looked at the piece of paper.  
  
He wasn't sure what to make of it. He hadn't expected any of that  
  
from her. First she showed up at his school worried about him and now  
  
this? She was the last person he expected to care whether he were  
  
here or gone. Motoki might--he had always thought Motoki was the only one.  
  
He thought of Usagi then, as he hadn't before, putting together all the   
  
memories he had of her and trying to draw some kind of conclusion. She  
  
was kind to everyone. And that was it, he thought, she was kind to everyone.  
  
If she saw anyone suffering she would offer help. Her reaction was not specific  
  
to him. And for some reason that bothered him. He felt a strange bitterness  
  
and an unexpected pang. And he decided he didn't want her made to order comfort!  
  
Let her help all the others! She didn't want him anymore than anyone else did.  
  
He balled up the phone number to throw it in the water but stopped at the last   
  
moment. He smoothed it out again and looked at her writing, the curly "u" she   
  
made in Usagi and the inimitable girliness in the way she drew her numbers. And  
  
he tucked it instead in his pocket. It had been an offer, if nothing else, and  
  
he would keep it for what it was worth. He did not realize how important an  
  
offer of care in writing had become to him.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	4. chapter 3

Unwanted  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Rated: Angst  
  
Set: First Season  
  
Author: nat-chan  
  
E-mail: natia_99@yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: standard  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
be honest dear heart  
  
broken and abashed  
  
how can you still chase love?  
  
without a drop of water  
  
how dare you enter  
  
the raging fire of love?  
  
tell me foolish heart  
  
what can I do with you?  
  
Rumi  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Mamoru had spent the better part of three hours  
  
ignoring the radio since his alarm had gone off.   
  
Finally, with the sun insistently pressing through  
  
the window, the bed covers growing too warm to enjoy  
  
and the songs unbearably cheerful he reached out a hand   
  
and smacked the offensive devise into 'off'.  
  
He rolled out of bed and lay on the floor for a long  
  
moment, still tangled in the bed spread. Finally  
  
he pulled himself up and made his way to the bathroom.  
  
He ignored the reflection that greeted him. It was  
  
bleary and unshaven. His hair was getting long again,  
  
hanging over his eyes. He had always prided himself  
  
on a neat appearance. Now, looking rough around  
  
the edges he looked young, for probably the first time  
  
in his life. Though he felt old and weary.   
  
He splashed cold water on his face and headed to the kitchen  
  
to make coffee--but he was out. This was his only motivation  
  
to leave the apartment. His phone flashed messages but he   
  
ignored them. He would not have gone to school but it was march  
  
break so he was not missing anything yet.   
  
He threw on jeans and a t-shirt, stretched and baggy from so  
  
much wear without washing. And he headed out into the bright  
  
spring day. Motoki was waiting by the door, looking a little  
  
haggard himself. He had obviously been waiting there a while.  
  
He stood and Mamoru stopped. They regarded each other for a   
  
long moment.  
  
"Figured you had to come out sometime." Motoki said warily.  
  
Mamoru looked at his longtime friend with something akin to  
  
respect, "You're a good friend." He said hoarsely.  
  
"But?" Motoki smiled faintly.  
  
Mamoru looked away, "But there's nothing you can do."  
  
"It seems there never is when something gets to you." Motoki said  
  
quietly, "What happened?"  
  
He joined Mamoru and waited for him to lead the way. Mamoru  
  
finally started walking, "I just--found out some things that  
  
made me rethink my life."  
  
Motoki nodded, "Doesn't seem like it's for the better."  
  
"It's not."  
  
"What did you find out?"   
  
Mamoru did not answer. Motoki waited. They reached the corner store.  
  
And then Mamoru turned and gave a strange smile to his blond haired  
  
friend, "You are, the only one who cares what happens to me."  
  
Motoki took that in with some horror as he realized Mamoru did not  
  
number himself among those who cared.  
  
"I'm not the only one." Motoki said quietly, "And I shouldn't be."  
  
Mamoru gave a bitter huff of laughter, "Doesn't matter how things  
  
should be--haven't you noticed?"  
  
Motoki struggled to handle things--what had happened? It was awful  
  
whatever it was.  
  
"I want to help." He offered innocently. It struck Mamoru then, the  
  
innocence of it. Motoki was so untouched by pain.   
  
"You can't help when I don't want you to." Mamoru snapped--suddenly   
  
angry at how easy everyone else had it. What did they know? How could  
  
they offer help, comfort, anything? He ran a frustrated hand through  
  
his hair as Motoki reeled, taken aback.  
  
"Give up Motoki, you don't need to bother about me anymore. I don't.  
  
And no one else does either."  
  
Motoki's eyes widened and he shook his head, "That's not true. I will  
  
always care. And I'm not the only one. Usagi cares."  
  
But Mamoru was ready for that, "Usagi cares about everyone."  
  
But now Motoki turned the barb back on him, "Oh, I see, because  
  
Usagi cares for everyone that makes her caring meaningless? It's  
  
not specific enough for you?" His eyes narrowed perceptively, "If  
  
that bothers you then it's not a matter of whether she cares for  
  
you or not. It's a matter of how much you care about her."  
  
Mamoru's face suddenly took on an assessing look. For a moment he  
  
was his old self, taking in new information and working out what  
  
it meant to him. Motoki watched and decided pushing him with a bit  
  
of anger was most effective. It felt bad but if it was necessary  
  
he was up to it.  
  
"When you're done feeling sorry for yourself, I'll still be here  
  
waiting to help." Then he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving  
  
Mamoru to mull over his words.  
  
He headed into the cornerstore, his heart suddenly heavy. He had hurt  
  
Motoki. What did that mean? What was everything coming to?  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Dr. Mizuno slipped off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his  
  
nose wearily. Ami had come to recognize this as a sign that something  
  
was bothering him. She slipped into his office with something  
  
warm to drink and sat across from him. Various charts lay across  
  
the desk.  
  
"What's the matter?" She asked him gently.  
  
"Nothing." Dr. Mizuno smiled and met her eyes. She held his gaze  
  
until he finally chuckled, "Never was any fooling you."  
  
She shook her head, "What are you looking over?"  
  
He looked at the charts, "An old case. Very old now. Before you  
  
were born. There was a little boy I treated who survived a horrible  
  
car accident. His parents were both killed, he had no other relatives  
  
living and he had amnesia. He has never remembered anything."  
  
Ami's face turned horrified, "How awful. What happened to him?"  
  
"He grew up in an orphanage and moved out on his own as soon as he  
  
could. He's in High School now and doing very well I hear. Good  
  
grades, high ambitions. I always wondered about him. A few  
  
weeks ago we were contacted by a library in America that had some  
  
of his mother's journals. They sent them to me and I looked him up."  
  
Ami smiled, "Oh, her journals! That's wonderful! Finally, after  
  
all this time."  
  
Dr. Mizuno smiled, "I was very glad to give them to him. He looks  
  
good. I hope they bring him some peace after all he has suffered.  
  
That accident with the Chiba's...it was one of the worst I've ever   
  
seen. And his amnesia is so severe. There was nothing I could  
  
do to help him remember. He was so young and frightened. It haunted  
  
me for a long time afterwards. I thought of him when you had your  
  
sixth birthday. He was only six when I treated him."  
  
He took a thoughtful sip of his drink, "Thanks." He said, nodding  
  
to it, "You always know when I need one."  
  
Ami smiled affectionately at her father. He was more than a Doctor.  
  
And she loved him for it.  
  
It wasn't until later, in the arcade with Usagi that the name 'Chiba'  
  
finally struck a chord.   
  
She found Usagi bent over an untouched soda, looking drawn and worried.  
  
"What's the matter Usa?"   
  
And Usa had fixed her with those wide eyes, alight with that depth of  
  
sympathy Ami could not fathom. It was a quality Usagi alone possessed.  
  
She looked at you that way and saw every hurt you had ever taken.  
  
"It's Mamoru." Usagi said, "Something's bothering him but he won't   
  
say what. He's flunking his tests and never comes into the arcade   
  
anymore! Motoki is beside himself. Mamoru won't tell him what's   
  
wrong! Motoki says he isn't leaving his apartment at all! I'm   
  
so worried!"  
  
Ami was speechless. Mamoru, Usagi's great enemy. But she could  
  
see on her friend's face, the worry was biting into her. She  
  
considered him a friend and felt for him.   
  
Mamoru flunking tests? Ami knew something must be terribly  
  
wrong. She knew what a great student he was. She heard about   
  
the top scores posted at his High School. Chiba was almost  
  
always the name at the top of the list.  
  
Chiba....  
  
Mamoru Chiba.   
  
Ami suddenly turned very white and Usagi stopped short in her  
  
own worryings, "What's wrong Ami-chan? Don't you feel well?"  
  
"Oh Usa..." She said in horror. Something about those journals,  
  
something had gone very wrong. But she could not say--could she?  
  
It was confidential, the information a Doctor held on a patient.  
  
But Mamoru had no one...no one but Motoki and Usagi...  
  
"I want to tell you something, but I shouldn't, but I must."  
  
Usagi was frightened to hear her friend so incoherant. Ami  
  
always had it together.  
  
"My father was the Doctor who treated Mamoru as a child." Ami told  
  
her.  
  
"What happened when he was a child?" Usagi asked quietly, a sense  
  
of dread filling her.  
  
"He was in a terrible car accident with his parents. They died  
  
and he has amnesia. He can't remember them at all."  
  
The colour drained out of Usagi's face, "Oh Ami..."  
  
"He grew up in an orphanage and now he lives on his own. A few  
  
weeks ago my father was contacted by an American library..."  
  
She told Usagi of the journals. It timed back exactly to Mamoru's  
  
sudden change.  
  
"What was in them?" Usagi asked her. They should have made him  
  
happy. They should have contained the lovely memories he   
  
deserved to have. What had they held instead?  
  
"I don't know." Ami shook her head helplessly, then she took Usagi's  
  
hand, "You mustn't tell anyone--not even Motoki, ok?"  
  
Usagi nodded, "I promise I won't."  
  
Motoki came over to them at that moment, looking sad and defeated.  
  
Ami left to find her father.  
  
"I yelled at him." Motoki confessed, sitting down across from Usa.  
  
"You yelled at him?"  
  
"It was the only thing that got through to him. I said some awful  
  
things to him. I don't know if I was right now...I just don't know."  
  
He faced her, "I know he pushed you away, but will you try again? Maybe  
  
you can reach him. I think he cares about you--he just won't admit it."  
  
Usagi shook her head, "I can't go to him unless he asks for me--the same  
  
as you." She took Motoki's hand, "What did he say?"  
  
"He said no one cared what happened to him." Motoki repeated bleakly  
  
and Usagi frowned.  
  
Motoki met her frown with a bitter smile, "Apparently you and I don't  
  
count."  
  
Usagi was thoughtful. Ofcourse we wouldn't count, she thought, if  
  
his parents are gone. She thought of his lonely childhood, all  
  
the times he must have been afraid with no one to cling to. With no  
  
memory to tell him how.  
  
It overwhelmed her. She had always felt compassion for other people  
  
but this was more. His pain cut into her as though it were her own.  
  
It wrenched her and made her suddenly feel older than she was.   
  
She went home that night and stayed up late, gazing out her window  
  
and worrying for him. What was he doing right now? Whatever it  
  
was he was alone. And suddenly, more than anything else in her life  
  
she wanted to go to him. It was a powerful feeling that drowned out  
  
everything. What did it mean? She was afraid to ask herself. It   
  
was some kind of connection she felt to him. He was suffering, and  
  
so, she suffered to.   
  
And all she could do, was wait for him to ask for her...  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	5. chapter 4

Unwanted  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Rated: Angst  
  
Set: First Season  
  
Author: nat-chan  
  
E-mail: natia_99@yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: standard  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
there is a way from your heart to mine  
  
and my heart knows it,  
  
because it is clean and pure like water.  
  
when the water is still like a mirror  
  
it can behold the moon.  
  
Rumi  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Mamoru did not sleep that night. He stayed up  
  
and read the journals over and over. He held  
  
the last one in his hands. Read the last page  
  
until the numbness went away and the pain  
  
washed over him. It was horrible.  
  
It was dawn when he left the journal by the   
  
window and went into his bathroom. He turned  
  
on the shower and climbed in, still wearing  
  
his pajamas. And he sat down, the same way  
  
he had as a child, holding his knees to his  
  
chest. That had been his hiding place. His  
  
sanctuary when there was no place else to go.  
  
Now he sat, waiting to feel better, but this   
  
was unlike any pain or any fear he had ever  
  
known. He had no one. But he knew, he couldn't  
  
face this alone. The water wouldn't wash it  
  
away.  
  
He stumbled from the shower and hurried to his  
  
jeans where they lay on the floor. He fumbled  
  
around in the pocket for that slip of paper--where  
  
was it? There was only one person he wanted. And  
  
he wanted her at the moment, like he had never  
  
wanted anything--though he couldn't say why.  
  
He finally got it out and headed to the   
  
kitchen, for his phone, smoothing the paper out and  
  
smearing it with his wet hands. His hands were  
  
shaking as he started to dial--and there was a  
  
knock at the door. He hesitated, then walked over,  
  
opening it and staring in disbelief at the girl  
  
on the other side.  
  
"How did you know?" He breathed.  
  
She stepped in and pulled the door closed behind her and  
  
he dropped to his knees, still clutching the phone.  
  
"I don't know what to do..." He said desperately.  
  
Usa's eyes at the moment, he would never forget. They  
  
were filled with emotion, and it was all for him. For  
  
no one else, just him. She took the phone from him and   
  
put it aside.   
  
"You need to be mothered." She said gently, taking  
  
his face in her hands. And something about those words  
  
came home to him. So that he let her.  
  
She took him to his room and fished out clean pajamas and  
  
towled his face and hair in the bathroom. She turned off   
  
the shower and cleaned up as she went. Then she took him   
  
to his couch and tucked his head beneath her chin and held   
  
him there. He listened to her heart beating and the silence   
  
of the apartment changed. It was not silence anymore. He   
  
clung to her then and held on tight. The morning drifted by.  
  
He felt her fingers gently in his hair, on his face.  
  
There was so much comfort. He did not know how to receive  
  
it. He simply held still until it finally sunk in.   
  
Near noon she got him up and took him back to the bathroom.  
  
And with infinite care she filled up the sink with warm water,  
  
sat him down on the edge of the tub, and shaved away the scruffy  
  
tracings of the past week's agony. He watched her face while  
  
she did it and saw such strength in it. She was not Usagi, or  
  
Odango, or anyone. There was something more. He lost forever  
  
the feeling that she cared for everyone the same way. This  
  
care was just for him. It was special.   
  
She took him to the kitchen and puttered around until pancakes  
  
were on. And she stood over him while he ate, running her fingers  
  
through his hair. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to.  
  
It wasn't until he was finished and headed back to the couch with her  
  
that she stopped him, reaching up to touch his face, the hollows under   
  
his eyes, "You're tired." She whispered.  
  
And he let her lead him to the bedroom, lay him down and spread  
  
the covers evenly over him. She sat by the edge and smiled, "I'll  
  
still be here when you wake up." She promised and he slowly drifted  
  
away.  
  
She cleaned everything up, put everything away. His apartment was  
  
uncluttered and held many empty corners. Only a few trace belongings  
  
gave away his likes and dislikes...the subtle bits of his personality.  
  
She found the journal by the window, open to the last page and read it  
  
with horror. She turned it back and read it entirely, her heart breaking  
  
for him. It cut off before his mother had time to write what she had  
  
really felt at his birth. She must have loved him. These could only  
  
be doubts...fears....not the truth.  
  
She stared at the words for a long time...and when she looked up he was  
  
standing by her. She expected him to be angry and for a moment he  
  
looked like he was, but it collapsed. There was nothing left for it.  
  
It was a tense moment--she wasn't sure what to do.   
  
She searched his face for the right thing to say...but there was nothing.  
  
Instead she stood and wrapped an arm around him and took him to the couch  
  
and they read it together. It was somehow the right thing to do--the only  
  
thing to be done. And it was. Facing it with someone beside you made  
  
it somehow easier.   
  
He turned to her at the end, his mother wondering if she could love  
  
him when he was born, fearing she could not.  
  
His eyes wide and blue and pained, "Do you think she did?"  
  
Usagi smiled, "How could she not?" She asked.  
  
As though it were easy to love him. As though it were inevitable to   
  
anyone close to him. It filled him with emotions he could not name or   
  
speak or feel. His eyes filled up and she kissed him gently on the   
  
cheek. He pulled her into his arms and a strange feeling came over her.   
  
The sense of responsibility and purpose that had fueled her ebbed away.   
  
Mamoru was tall and strong and held her with such ease.  
  
"Thank you." He said, his voice shaky and vulnerable so that her heart broke all  
  
over again for him, "I don't know what I would have done without you."  
  
She wrapped her arms about him and held tight, "I'll always care what happens to  
  
you." She whispered, meaning it.   
  
They sat quietly for a long time. Finally the long stretch of coping and hurting  
  
and comforting came to an end. Mamoru looked at her, "What happens next?"  
  
It was a good question. But Usagi just smiled, "Now we go on. Now we go out  
  
and get groceries."  
  
He nodded, "I have a lot of studying to catch up on."  
  
She leaned close to his face, "You have time. Worry about that a little  
  
later."  
  
She waited while he showered and dressed and they headed out. Mamoru had  
  
never done any shopping with anyone before. It was...fun. Usagi added  
  
a great quantity of things to his cart he was fairly sure he'd never eaten.  
  
She teased him about his strange attachment to dill pickles and praised  
  
his chocolate addiction to no end.   
  
Mamoru looked around. Families were shopping, couples, friends, roomates...  
  
It was so nice to have someone. Usagi caught the look of happiness on his  
  
face and felt better than she could ever recall feeling. Mamoru loved her  
  
company. It was such a wholly different experience. Her family loved  
  
her as a daughter, the girls engaged with her and were entertained by  
  
her and they loved her as a friend. But Mamoru drew things from her the  
  
others did not. He enjoyed her company and she felt for a moment that she  
  
was his equal. That she was strong and caring and...she couldn't say what.  
  
It was something too big to name.   
  
She walked home with him, laden with bags and they cooked dinner together  
  
and watched TV and finally, she had to go home.   
  
"Will you be alright?" She asked in the doorway, her eyes so filled  
  
with emotion they were like a touch.  
  
He nodded and smiled, just a little, "I have to talk to Motoki."  
  
Usagi broke into a wide smile at that and Mamoru couldn't help but feel  
  
pleased because she was pleased. She nodded.  
  
His face turned a little uncertain and she was struck again by  
  
how young he suddenly looked, "You're not that much older than  
  
me are you?" She observed.  
  
He shook his head, "No, not really. You thought I was?"  
  
"It just always seemed like you were." She met his eyes and  
  
read something in them that endeared him to her forever.  
  
"Do you want to come over tomorrow?" He asked.  
  
"Sure." She nodded and beamed her famous smile at him. She was  
  
Odango again and it suddenly made him feel really good.  
  
He broke into an honest smile then, one she didn't think she'd  
  
ever seen--especially directed at *her*, "See you tomorrow Odango."  
  
And this time she wasn't angry about the nickname. She waved at  
  
him from the elevator and then she was gone.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


End file.
